When the Tribbles Invade
by single girl seeks good pizza
Summary: The Axis are once again attacked by a formidable enemy... not the Allies! This time, it comes in the form of a small furry creature called... a tribble? Based off the Star Trek episode.


**A/N: I just watched the Star Trek episode "The Trouble With Tribbles" not two hours ago. Jeez, I couldn't stop laughing! That episode just screamed "Hetalia-fy me!" and afterwards the plot bunny just wouldn't leave me alone. So, here it is.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Star Trek._

When the Tribbles Invade

There was only one previous time when Italy had woken up before Germany. That, of course, was when the blonde nation had been "visited" by an ancient empire that was supposedly long dead. This time around, the invader was actually not a former country, but a creature small enough to fit into your hand…

"_Doitsu… _look what I found!" a happy-go-lucky voice exclaimed.

Germany slowly opened his eyes to see the face of his smaller ally taking up his entire field of vision. "Wha- Italy!" he exclaimed as he jolted awake.

"Look _Doitsu,_ isn't it cute?" Italy crooned, holding up what appeared to be a giant ball of fur.

Germany sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking at the fuzz-ball held in his companion's hands. "Don't tell me you stole one of America's 'Zhu-Zhu Pets' or whatever those were again…" He let out a sigh.

"No, of course not! Those were too annoying!" the brunette said, his grin never once leaving his face. Germany barely had time to react before the useless ally shoved the creature in question into his face. It was small, and covered head to toe in thick, soft fur. _Wait, where _is _the head?_

Italy turned away from the taller country and cradled the tiny animal in his arms. It made an unusual chirping sound. "Aww, you're so cute, cute, cute!" he squealed.

"Italy… what are these?" Germany asked, eyeing the small thing with suspicion.

"Uhm…" Italy hesitated for several moments. "I'll call it a 'tribble!'" he finally exclaimed.

"Tribble, hm?"

"Yeah, I found it in… _Doitsu,_ what's the name of that little alien that's always stalking America?"

"You mean Tony?"

"Uh-huh! I found it in his trash can a while ago!"

"Do you know why it was in his trash can in the first place?"

"Uh… no…?" Italy said, grinning cluelessly. By then, Germany was starting to wonder. He began rubbing his temples. That day was going to be exhausting, he could already tell. Little did he know just _how_ exhausting.

Later that day, Germany and Japan had already gathered for their training session. Italy, as per usual, was late. A mere two hours after they were scheduled to meet, Italy waltzed in.

"_Italia!_ Where the hell have you be—_what?_" Germany let out the gasp of the century once he realized what Italy was carrying. The smaller nation's arms were filled to the brim with at least fifteen of the so-called "tribbles."

"Hi _Doitsu!_ The tribbles really like to (bleep) don't they?" he babbled excitedly.

Japan stood there disconcerted, both by Italy's statement and the odd creatures he was holding. "W-what are those?" he stammered. The height-deprived nation went over to his ally, taking up one of the fluffy animals.

"I call them tribbles," Italy beamed. The one Japan held in his arms began chirping. He stroked it calmy, and then pressed it against the side of his face. He let a small smile escape his lips, as Italy's grew even broader at the sight, if that were possible.

"They're… kind of cute…" the Asian said softly, picking up another two or three tribbles from his friend's arms and placing them into his own. They all began making their mesmerizing chirping noises.

Watching the duo, Germany reached over and took one of the fuzz-balls for himself. He lifted the creature to eye lever and studied with an intense glaze. "They really don't have heads, do they?"

Japan also examined one of his tribbles. "It appears that they like everyone, and using their chirps they attract people to them in a hypnotic fashion…"

"I, fortunately, am immune," Germany said to his companions. Of course, he spoke that line whilst stroking the top of his tribble. The other Axis just stared at him. "Ahem—anyway…" he returned the creature to its original owner. Then, he realized something. "Italy? You said they like to (bleep) a lot, right?" Japan cringed at the dirty word.

"Yeah…" Italy said, not having a clue as to where Germany was going.

"But you need two to (bleep), and there was only one before…"

"Oh… that's right… maybe they're born pregnant!"

Behind a set of bushes, a certain European nation who had been spying on them heard the entire exchange. At the last bit, he promptly keeled over unconscious.

After their routine training exercises, the Axis broke for lunch. By then, the number of tribbles had multiplied to about fifty, give or take a hundred or so. Most likely "give." As Italy scampered around the kitchen making some spaghetti for them to share, Germany headed towards the supply closet. His quarry was simple: plenty of cleaning supplies for the mess that was sure to appear.

While walking down the hallway, he suddenly felt an odd tingling feeling on the back of his shoulder. He froze in position, and then the sensation began moving down his back. It was about three-fourths of the way down when he realized what was happening. He flailed around in a desperate attempt to get the offender out of his shirt. Eventually he ripped of his clothing in frustration. The country heard a light thud. He looked down to see a tiny spotted tribble lying on the floor. He shot it a severe glare, then stomped away, only to trip on yet another one of the creatures. He growled angrily, then got up and stalked off.

Meanwhile, Italy rummaged through the cupboards in search of ingredients. All he found was tribble after tribble, hiding in a teacup here and sucking on and abandoned lollipop there. Eventually, he found a box of spaghetti buried in the back of the pantry. "Yay, pasta!" he exclaimed as he pulled out the package. He returned to the stove where a pot of already boiling water was waiting. The European nation opened the box and poured it into the pot. Unfortunately, he didn't realize what he'd done until after a gaggle of tribbles spilled out of the container and to their steamy, watery doom.

"N-no… Waahh! I'm a horrible person!" Italy wailed as he fell to his knees. Japan noticed the commotion and joined his friend at the stove. He innocently peered into the pot.

"You're cooking them, Italy-san? Well, they seem like they'd be good with cashews…" the Asian commented. As he finished speaking, his ears picked up the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. "Hello, Germany-san," he stated just as the aforementioned European entered the room. Germany simply staggered to the table, sat down, and let his head fall against the surface with a THUNK. Japan turned around to face his ally. "Did you find what you were looking f—_eh?_" the shorter nation nearly had a heart attack when he noticed that Germany was no longer wearing a shirt. _Questions later,_ he reassured himself.

"I'll go get some more food," he said to the room, which was silent except for Italy's bawling. After all, boiled tribble couldn't _really_ taste all that good, cashews or no cashews. He headed towards a large cupboard in the back of the room, where he kept a huge stash of white rice. He gently opened the door, and was instantly drowned by an onslaught of tribbles. By the time the creatures stopped pouring out of the door, poor Japan was buried up to his chest in them. He eyed his companions, who were now staring at him in awe. "Don't… say… anything…" he warned, only to be hit in the head by a brown tribble that fell from the ceiling.

Germany broke the silence that ensued by standing up and smacking his hand down on the table. "That's it! I've had it with these things! I'm going for a walk now, and if there's a single tribble in this house by the time I get back, I swear I will set every single one of them on fire and feed them to the dogs!" Italy dove into a cabinet bawling as the towering blonde stormed out.

Germany returned later, to find that the house was completely spotless. He opened the dishwasher, but there were no tribbles licking sauce of the dirty plates. The rice cupboard was completely empty of both rice and creatures. Even the cooked ones had been removed from the pot. He turned to Italy and Japan who were standing innocently by the doorway.

"How did you do it?" he asked, surprised by their success. Neither country said a word.

"Japan? Where are they?"

"It was Italy who did it," the black-haired man replied.

"Italy?"

"B-but, it was Japan's idea!" Italy stammered, pointing at the other.

"Well, Japan?" Germany pressed, beginning to feel irked.

"I'll get back to you on that."

"Rrrr…" The European clenched his fists and turned back to the taller brunette. "Italy! What in God's name did you do with those horrible things!" he yelled.

Italy cringed and let out a wail. "Ahh! I Fine, fine, I mailed them somewhere far away!"

Germany paused a moment. "Well then… where are they?"

"I… g-gave them to… the Allies…" the pasta-lover whined, wiping a tear from his eye. The taller country gave no reaction for what seemed like eternity, until a broad grin that would give America a run for his money spread across his face. Upon seeing that expression, Italy let out a scream that could be heard from the moon.

Coincidentally, the Alien named Tony was on the moon at that very moment. He heard the scream and looked up from his newspaper. "What was that? Maybe they found out about the tribble… No, they couldn't have," he said to himself and continued reading.

Epilogue

The five Allied nations stared blankly at the small fur-balls that inhabited their meeting room. Some were on the table, a few were clinging to the walls, and a handful of them were even dangling from the ceiling. It almost felt like the entire room was furnished with the tribbles.

"What the bloody hell are these things?" England complained, trying to shake off the tribble that had latched onto his forearm.

"I dunno, but they are freaking awesome!" America shouted as he held one at face level, his eyes sparkling. "They're even cooler than my Zhu-Zhu Pets!"

"Oh please, _anything_ could be better than those… those bloody _demons!"_ England hissed as he remembered his first, last, and only encounter with the little electronic hamsters that American children seemed to love so much.

"I think they're adorable, aru! But where are their heads, aru?" China asked as he looked at the animal he held in his hands, one eye closed.

"I ate them," Russia answered, smiling cutely. The other Allies gasped and froze in their positions, the tribble America held falling out of his hand and hitting the ground. "Just kidding!"

France broke the irritated silence that followed. "They'd make lovely fashion accessories, wouldn't they?" he commented, placing one on his head as the other nations made various hesitation sounds. The wavy-haired man was about to shove a pair of them down his pants for reasons unknown, but he stopped when he caught sight of Russia's bone-chilling grin.

"They _are_ really cute! Maybe we should keep them!" America announced, reaching for the milkshake he had on the table. He gave the straw a suck, but nothing happened. Not even air came out. "Hmm…" he muttered, confused. He tried again, sucking the dear life out of the cup. Then, he unexpectedly started coughing and gagging. The other countries just watched, England giggling to himself slightly. The sight actually was rather amusing. At least, until the North American's face began taking on a bluish hue.

Russia, the one seated closest, jumped up and ran to his ally's aid. He wrapped his arms around the smaller nation's torso and performed an unusually fierce rendition of the Heimlich maneuver. The crisis passed, and America let out a few final coughs and gasps. He looked around the room discombobulated, wondering if he'd broken a rib or six.

"I'll do the mouth to mouth part!" France swooned, pressing a random rose to his lips. He got a weak flip-off from the country still supported by Russia's arms in reply. "You don't have to be so mean!" the European whined, covering his face with his cape.

America looked down at his milkshake, lying abandoned on the floor. All of a sudden, the cup started moving. As if by magic, the lid popped off and flew across the room, hitting England square in the forehead. And what would crawl out of the cup but a small while tribble? America craned his neck to look up and make direct eye contact with the Russian who supported him. In the most demonic voice anyone had ever heard come out of his mouth, he instructed, "Get rid of them. _Now._" Russia just grinned evilly.

**A/N: You drank America's milkshake? Bad tribble, **_**bad! **_** And about the Zhu-Zhu Pets? My sister has two of them. I just had to mention their ultimate evil in here somehwhere. Also, those of you who have seen the episode that inspired this may have noticed that a few of the events were taken directly from the show (and I don't own them! Jeez, relax, you giant corporations!). They were just too funny, so I couldn't resist. ^_^**

**Anyway, R&R or else I'll mail you a tribble… or ten…**


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